


Spark Of Black

by EclipseWing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A different spin on the kitsune mythology, Always a nogitsune Stiles, F/M, Gen, Mentions of Suicide, Nogitsune Stiles, Poor Stiles, Temporary Character Death, this is slightly depressing and doom and gloom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseWing/pseuds/EclipseWing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles used to be a kitsune.<br/>Then his mother died.<br/>‘A nogitsune is born when a kitsune dies.’<br/>Stiles is sixteen when he finally looks in the mirror and admits to himself that he isn’t a kitsune anymore.<br/>He drags Scott into the woods to look for half a dead body that very night.</p><p>[or: in which Stiles has always been a void fox but the Nemeton’s sacrifice makes everything worse]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spark Of Black

_"You can't tell anyone. Nobody."_

_"Not even dad?"_

_"Not even your father. He wouldn't understand. And people are scared of what they don't understand."_

_"Would they be scared of me?"_

_"Oh, my dear, sweet boy…"_

_"Mom…"_

_"Promise me. Promise me… nobody. Tell nobody. There are people out there, hunters, and they'll sooner kill you than stop to ask questions. You have to promise me that you will tell nobody."_

_"I promise. I promise."_

_"Good. That's good, my little kit. Be good for your father now. And keep it hidden. Tell no one."_

_"Mom? Mom, what's wrong? Mom. I promise, I won't tell anyone. I won't, I promise, I promise I'll keep it a secret. Mom? Mom!"_

 

Claudia is young for her kind. She’s only seen a century or two when she decides to move across with the New World. She sheds her old form, takes on a new one to help her fit in.

She’s still different. It comes across in her accent, the way she mixes languages together with no regard for boundaries. Someone mistakes her for Polish and so that’s what she sticks with, even though it’s nothing near the Japanese heritage she has.

But she’s young and rebellious and so she lives her life. She falls in love. She’s fallen in love before, but never like this. She’s convinced he’s the one. That he’s her forever.

But he’s human. And she’ll watch him die someday.

She can’t bear that. She’s not that old - her kind can live for thousands of years but she doesn’t want to. She wants to live and die with this man, with his soft eyes and kind heart.

It’s not hard to supress her power. She begins to age, but it’s slow. She still heals faster than she should and it’s not enough. Then she discovers she’s pregnant. It sends her into a panic, because she doesn’t know what will happen to the child. Most kitsune births end up still-born or miscarriages. On the possibility that the child actually survives he could be human. Weak and frail and human.

Or he could be like her.

But her husband is ecstatic. His eyes light up and he holds her close, holds her tenderly, hand on her belly.

The pregnancy isn’t easy. It’s draining, and she can feel it taking something out of her.

She lets it. She wants this, more than anything. She’s young and naïve but she wants this. She lets her powers drain out of her, and she’s just found her first grey hair in the mirror when her water breaks and she has to go into hospital.

Hours later she clutches a warm squirming bundle, and she can’t feel her tails. She can’t feel any of them, but the child in her arms wails slightly and he blinks sleepily at the world around him.

His eyes are ringed with liquid fire and Claudia is content.

 

Claudia Stilinski dies when Stiles is twelve years old. He had been the only one there, sitting beside her when she finally slipped away, the hand clasping his own had gone limp and the heart monitor had stopped.

And Stiles had felt it. He had felt her draining away, even as something in him sparked alight. Some crucial part of him was ripped away, burnt up. It was as if something that had always been there had crawled in and settled over his heart ~~(settled into his bones)~~ and even then he knows there is something wrong with him. Something not right.

He hadn't known what it meant back then. But later, when he had time and boundless energy he had worked it out, just like he always did.

 

_A nogitsune is born when a kitsune dies._

 

Stiles' mother died and left him. She had been a fire kitsune, right up until the moment he had been born. Her powers had been passed on to him, but they had taken something vital from her.

She had clung to life, vibrant and happy right up until suddenly she wasn’t.

There are thirteen types of kitsune. When Stiles is born Claudia doesn’t bother working out what type he is, because it often doesn’t manifest until the kit is older.

She knew though. She always knew, the moment she could no longer feel her tails and his eyes opened with a fire burning in them. There was a spark burning in Stiles that had been lit the moment he was born, but the moment his mother passed it became a wildfire.

Fact: There has always been something wrong with Stiles Stilinski.

 

_A nogitsune is born when a kitsune dies._

 

He thinks they mean that a nogitsune is a spirit of a dead kitsune. They have no body unless possessing someone, and they hunger because of it, causing strife and pain wherever they go.

Stiles isn't dead, but his mom is gone and some part of him has gone too. His eyes are not even the amber they were when he was a kit, but instead are ringed with mercury silver. And taking pain?

That comes almost too easily.

Stiles knows he's not the same, knows something is different about him. He can see it in his shadow, sitting in the back of his eyes that in the right light _~~wrong light~~_ looks almost like they have a silver sheen to them.

He's sixteen when he finally looks in the mirror and admits it to himself, plain and simply.

He's not a kitsune anymore.

That's the night he drags Scott out into the woods to look for a dead body.

 

Stiles meets Scott after his mother dies. In the first few months he’s filled with a sudden pit, a loss that feels physical, like someone has scooped out a hole in him.

A void.

His powers spark out of control, and he spends far longer watching things burn than is healthy. He finds a baby bird in the sand pit at school. It’s wing is broken and in fascination Stiles clenches his fingers down over the broken wing, watching the small creature chirp and struggle in pain.

“That’s not nice,” someone sits down next to him. Startled, he lets the bird go. It flaps helplessly and flops down weakly in the sandpit. “My mom says you shouldn’t be mean to things. She’s a nurse.” He beams at Stiles proudly.

Stiles blinks at the boy, his tanned skin and crooked jaw. He sets his jaw stubbornly, “And?” he says petulantly.

“And?” the kid blinks at him, “And we should take it to the animal clinic or something.” He reaches out, and Stiles wants to hit out at him for snatching away his toy, but then Scott has the bird cradled so gently in his hand and he’s standing, telling Stiles to “Come on!”

Stiles follows behind the boy, never realising that he’s never going to stop following the kid after that day. Somehow they persuade a teacher to let them take the bird to the clinic, and they end up standing in the operations room as the man looks over the fragile thing. He demonstrates how to splint the wing and the boy watches in fascination, Stiles in mild boredom.

The vet sees them off, and the boy pushes out and over to where his mom stands, wearing scrubs, waiting for him. Stiles’ father stands next to her, a long-suffering look on his face. Stiles steps forwards, hands hovering over the wooden barrier and freezing. His palm shakes a little as he feels out the power swirling in the wood beneath.

“Here,” the vet’s smile is a little too thin, but he pushes it open, letting Stiles out to run into his father’s arms.

“Did you make a friend?” he dad catches him with tired amusement.

“Yeah!” Stiles nods, because he kind of likes the other boy.

“And have you asked this friend’s name?”

“I’m Scott.” The boy says.

“Stiles.” He replies, oddly content.

It’s the start of a long and beautiful friendship.

 

The hollow pit never goes away. He doesn’t find any more little birds to torment, and gradually he stops setting everything on fire. Scott’s kind and empathic and he’s a perfect friend. He also has asthma attacks, and Stiles feels guilty to be taking advantage of them. He’s always first there, first to find Scott’s inhaler and shove it at Scott, and he always grabs onto Scott’s hand, to make it hurt just a little bit less.

It fills up the void, just enough to make it bearable.

Then Scott gets bitten by a werewolf.

And then? Then there are hunters and Scott’s enamoured with Allison Argent, Lydia Martin is actually looking at him and Derek Hale sniffs at him regularly.

It’s Peter though, in the parking garage who actually considers Stiles for a long moment, once he’s snatched his wrist away from the alpha. He steps forwards, “What _are_ you?” he asks, lip curling slightly. It’s almost as if he knows the answer already, the same way he knew that Stiles could find Derek, has been able to find Derek ever since Scott mentioned his phone was missing days ago.

But he’s prepared to let Derek die to save Scott if he has to.

Stiles grits his teeth and doesn’t answer. It should have been easier telling Scott what he is now his best friend is a supernatural being as well, but there were murders and Allison Allison Allison and he hasn’t found the right time.

Not yet.

Peter’s eyes flash red and Stiles’ eyes shine silver for just a second, but Peter’s backing off, looking wary. His nostrils flare, but Stiles smells human. For all extent and purposes he is.

Just with a little pyrokinesis and pain-taking on the side.

 

Then Peter burns and Derek is the new alpha and Stiles avoids him. He sits down with Scott and tries to tell him, tries to open his mouth and explain what the hell he is, but then there is a kanima.

“It’s not like I wanted to be here treading water for two hours holding you up,” Stiles growls out to Derek, because he doesn’t like water. He’s got a fire at his heart and his worst fear has always been drowning. Still he kicks, keeps them afloat while a killer lizard prowls the outside of the pool.

He should have just let Derek die, he thinks later. It might have solved a lot of problems.

 

He’s half convinced Deaton gives him the Mountain Ash as a test. The vet tells him to be a spark, to create a line. Stiles remembers a day in the past where he had frozen, fingers inches from the mountain ash barrier in the clinic.

He takes the bottle, meeting Deaton’s eyes, “No problem.” He shrugs.

It’s not an issue. He used to be a fire kitsune. Mountain ash is just that - it’s ash. He can manipulate it just fine.

So he can’t break a barrier, and if it’s being used against him then he’s just as helpless as werewolves, but he has more control than other supernatural creatures.

He gives Deaton back the empty bags. “It wasn’t enough,” he tells the vet, holding them out for the man to take, “But don’t worry, I got a competed circle.”

The vet stares at him, not moving forwards to accept the bags back, “And making the circle? Did you have any problems?”

“No.” Stiles turns away. He leaves the bags on the desk.

He doesn’t cross the barrier that separates himself from Deaton.

 

And then there is Gerard.

Gerard _knows_.

"I know what you are."

The words send chills up Stiles spine and he freezes, standing in the cold dank basement of the Argent house. He's got his back turned to the stairs, and he should have heard the steps, heard the door open. He's too busy trying to untangle the wires, too busy trying to ignore Erica and Boyd's confused stares as the electric wires spark harmlessly over his skin.

Stiles drops his hands away, static still clinging to them like a second skin. He doesn't turn around, and Erica whimpers, staring at him. Tear tracks run down her face.

"I knew ever since I saw the mountain ash… neat trick, manipulating the ash. But then ash is nothing but dead flames to your kind, isn't it?" Gerard's voice is taunting as he takes each step slowly. He knows he holds all the power here, he knows he's in control.

"You know _nothing_ about my kind," Stiles half turns, glaring.

Erica makes another muffled sound. Stiles glances back at her and shakes his head, looking back to Gerard who is looking between them like he's discovered something that fascinates him.

"They don't know, do they?" he asks, "Your friends don't know. You're a fox, and they don't… The wolves _don't_ _know_ they have a fox in their midst."

"I'm a _kitsune_ ," Stiles corrects him.

"I _know_ ," Gerard grins at him, "I can't work out what kind though…" he tilts his head, considering. Stiles presses his lips together and says nothing. "Why… not so keen to talk now, are you?"

Stiles still says nothing. Gerard can hang this over him as blackmail, he knows the man would probably do so, but Stiles is past the point of caring.

He'd been about to tell them anyway. He'd been so, so tantalisingly close to sitting Scott down and just blurting it out. 'I'm a kitsune'. It was five syllables, but would inevitably be followed by a splurge of words. 'I meant to tell you but I promised, I promised and I was scared, so, so scared, you think werewolf hunters are bad, well me, my kind, there are barely any of us left, and if they find me they won't kill me, they'll torture me, because death isn't easy, not even close, and I'm sorry I kept this but I'm telling you now and can we still be friends?'.

Now Gerard has ruined that in a few, swift steps.

"You can't hurt me," Stiles scoffs, tilting his chin up defiantly. "You can't _kill_ me."

"True," Gerard shrugs, "Which is why I've got this." and he raises a gun Stiles hadn't noticed before - stupid, careless - and shoots it at Stiles.

He feels the cold bite of the dart in his neck and slaps it out almost immediately. "What was that?" he asks, stepping backwards, already feeling it affecting him. His whole world spins. Then the pain hits, spreading through his veins and his limbs go limp and he falls over and sideways, hitting the cold cement floor.

He's vaguely aware that he's screaming, that he's being burnt from the inside out, that Gerard has somehow managed to poison him. His limbs shake and seize and he sobs for breath.

Gerard crouches by him, pinning down one thrashing hand. "There," he hums, "That's better." and he's holding a syringe, and it has more of that stuff - god no - and he leans down and Stiles can't fight the old man when he pushes the plunger down and injects it straight into Stiles' neck.

Overhead the lights flicker and blow.

 

In the vault they have time.

They have nothing but time.

Cora uses that time to make Boyd and Erica tell her everything about everyone. About the stupid kid who got himself bitten. About her wayward brother. About her psychotic uncle. About their friend, Isaac. About the huntress and the jock and the girlfriend and the hyperactive best friend.

That's when she realises she's hit a snag, when the pair look nervous and start chewing their lips.

So Boyd tells her, not sure of half the facts, but the sounds of the boy screaming on the floor as Gerard injected him with some sort of poison still fresh in his mind.

"Have you ever heard of a _kitsune_?"

And later, when Erica is dead and Cora is free and Boyd is dead and Peter is lurking and Derek is about to stalk away to hide out, Cora spins around and asks him about it.

"Do you really think you can win?" she asks, "It's just you, Peter and I…"

"Don't drag me into this!" Peter holds up his hands, "I'm not back up to fighting strength."

She casts him a sideways glare. "And those teenagers. Two wolves, a kitsune, a hunter and a girl who may or may not be psychic."

Derek and Peter look up at her, "Kitsune?" Derek asks, frowning.

Cora glances between them, "Yeah…" she says slowly, "Stiles. He's a kitsune, right?"

"Stiles?" Derek repeats, "Stiles isn't a kitsune."

Peter just huffs and rolls his eyes, “That’s it. I knew it. I knew he was something.”

“A kitsune?” Derek glances between Peter and Cora, “ _Stiles_?”

Cora swallows, "Yes he is," she repeats, "He… Boyd…" she swallows, "Boyd and Erica told me. In the vault. Back when they got captures by hunters, Stiles was there and the electricity didn't hurt him. He got shot up full of some poison and all the lights blew. You… You didn't know?" she was feeling apprehensive now, "Stiles didn't tell you?"

"Does he know you know?" Peter always asks the weird questions.

She chews on her lip, "I didn't realise that nobody else did…"

Peter scoffs quietly, "No wonder he didn't want the bite. It's poisonous to his kind. But really… a kitsune?" he repeated, sounding disbelieving, " _Stiles_?" he pauses, “What type?” his eyes narrow.

"It doesn't matter," Derek's depression returns suddenly, "It doesn't change anything." he begins stalking towards the door.

Later when Stiles appears, asking after Derek, he appears not to notice the odd stares Peter keeps shooting his way.

Cora just wishes she had kept her mouth shut.

 

Derek keeps finding himself staring at Stiles.

And the worst thing is: Stiles notices. He sees the red eyes and jumps, then relaxes when he realises Derek is alpha-visioning him. " _Dude_ ," he complains, "What are you doing?" he's annoyed and exasperated by Derek flashing red eyes at him and reacts in a manner typical of Stiles.

He's just Stiles. Nothing else. No aura, nothing.

Was Cora mistaken then?

But then Stiles' gaze turns just that little bit mischievous and he tilts his head, lips quirking, "See something you like?" he asks, and Derek blinks at the flirtation.

"No." he says, still glaring and Stiles sighs, dropping the charade with an eye roll. Scott has left and Derek glances around. If he's going to say anything, now is his chance. So he goes for his usual, blunt address. "When were you going to tell us you were a kitsune?"

Stiles startles, and finally - he's good, Derek will give him that - the fox's aura flickers free, and Derek's eyesight picks up the grey flare of aura around Stiles' shape before it is brutally squashed down. "What?" Stiles says, fake smile plastered on his face, "A _what_?"

"Don't lie," Derek is impatient. "You're a kitsune. I can see your aura."

"No you can't!" Stiles protests, and then clamps his jaw shut. "How did you know?" he asks, voice deathly quiet.

Derek tenses his jaw, "Cora," he admits, "She found out from Erica and Boyd."

"Oh…" Stiles relaxes slightly, "Okay. Fine."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"What was I meant to say?" Stiles shrugs, "I'm a fox running with wolves. It's safer for my own skin to keep quiet." There is a thrumming nervousness under his skin.

"You're a trickster."

"Well, _duh_ ," Stiles shrugs, "It's in my nature. And for the record, I knew everyone would react like this."

"Well maybe if you told us sooner, but it's been months!"

"I was going to!" Stiles half-shouts, “But it’s complicated, okay? I was scared. I… I don’t know anything about my powers and my mom… my mom _died_ …” he chokes out, “That’s on me, understand? That was me.”

“You didn’t kill your mother,” Derek growls out, because Stiles has no idea what it feels like to be the reason his whole family burnt to death.

“You didn’t kill yours,” Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek, as if he’s reading the wolf’s thoughts, “I was going to tell Scott.” The teenager admits, quietly, “After Scott got a supernatural awakening I was going to tell him. But things were… complicated, with the hunters and kanima and… and then Gerard…" he stops, shaking slightly.

“Gerard?” Derek asks, sharply.

Stiles nods, "Gerard worked it out. And he… he had some poison. And… it's hard to kill a kitsune, but he… he'd be able to. And so I couldn't, okay? I _promised_."

Derek stares at him, "Tell Scott," he says, simply, "He's not going to hate you."

Stiles scoffs, "You don't know Scott like I do."

Derek shrugs, "I might not. But I know he'll understand." he stands, heading to the stairs, conversation over, "And if you don't…" he adds, over his shoulder, "I will."

He can feel Stiles' gaze boring a hole into his back as he makes his way up the stairs and out of sight.

 

He used to be able to ignore the hunger. The need to spread chaos and strife was like an irritating itch, but he could forget about it. It was easily pushed to the back of his mind with the general chaos taking place in the town of Beacon Hills without Stiles playing with strings. For the most part he sat back, helping Scott and Allison through it all intact. It was dangerous, but the adrenalin just helped to keep the hunger at bay.

Everything was fine. He kept hidden, out of sight, and nobody got hurt.

Then the Nemeton happened.

It had been necessary, he tells himself, and he had done what he had to. It had worked as well, he and Scott and Allison had found the Nemeton, they had found their parents and won, lives intact.

A darkness around his heart - that was what Deaton had said.

He hadn't expected it to be so literal.

He wakes at night, screaming, his dreams twisted into fire and shadows. He goes through the day passive and hardly there, and he's almost managed to convince himself that he's fine when the light changes and he wakes up.

_~~And he wakes up.~~ _

And the hunger sinks in deeper.

He wakes up and he's covered in bandages.

He wakes up and Scott is having trouble transforming.

He wakes up and he's crawling out of the Nemeton.

He wakes up and they help a coyote.

He wakes up and Allison's having nightmares about her dead aunt.

He wakes up and he's watching his mom die all over again.

He wakes up and he can't read.

He wakes up and something's changed. Something's been twisted deep inside of him, and he can feel it, like an open wound.

Like a tattoo.

 

Barrow used to be an electrical engineer.

It's perfect. It's just what Stiles needs.

The guy's already insane. All Stiles needs to do is give him a little prompt in the right direction. Earlier that night a fly crawled its way down William Barrow's throat, and now Stiles can feel the guy's consciousness, pulsing like a light. He's got a guy already guilty of murder under his thumb. And he's got a new girl who doesn't have a clue what she is, her golden aura shining like a halo around her head.

And Stiles? He does what he does best. He manipulates. He tricks. The wolves don't find Barrow in the school, because the serial killer is hiding in the chemistry closet. Stiles even accompanies Lydia back there later to work it out, to give her banshee powers something to work with.

Because she has so much potential, so much power yet untapped. It feels like Stiles is playing with fire.

He hasn't been able to make foxfire since the sacrifice.

So he hides in the shadows and let's Kira's fox fire pour into him instead.

And for some time it works. It's like he's been stuck in a desert with no water and he's finally found his pool of salvation. And for a time the gnawing pit in his stomach abates and Stiles can breathe, close his eyes and move on. Everyone's fine, nobody is hurt…

 

They break in the Sheriff's office the next night to steal Kira's phone. Stiles sits in the car and takes a picture with the flash on, and then examines the dark black aura that is strewn about his form.

But he's better than Kira. He can clean up after himself.

He deletes it.

They don't need to know. He doesn't care what he's promised Derek, it's so much more complicated now.

They don't need to know and he's not going to tell them.

He looks up, spotting Agent McCall and slips in to make a diversion. His words tumble over each other, and somehow his theory about how there was a mastermind behind Barrow (himself, but nobody needs to know that) turns into a threat.

And Rafe McCall is uncomfortable. Stiles can taste his distress, his anger and panic like chocolate in the air. It's delicious, and for a moment he toys with it, playing with the agent and plucking at the strings.

And that's when he realises what he's doing and stops, letting the man pass and staring at the door.

For a moment he hadn't cared about anything but that feeling. The emotions, the pain… it churns something in him and he realises that the foxfire had only delayed the inevitable.

Because he's still hungry. He's still starving. He still feels like he's about to crawl out of his skin.

His hands are shaking. He clenches them tight and walks out, looking up and meeting Scott and Kira in the eye.

He's got nothing to feel guilty about.

 

"Want to go to a party?" Scott asks, but it's mostly directed at Kira.

Stiles squashes down a wave of jealously. The pair are so sappy it makes his head spin, but he follows behind them in the jeep, because it would look odd if he decided to leave now.

The party is at Derek's loft. Stiles wonders with amusement what Derek would think about that. It's a blacklight party and there are harsh UV strobes illuminating the whirl of painted bodies. He grins, and vanishes, slipping away from Scott and Kira.

He finds Lydia, eyeing up Aidan (it might be Ethan, Stiles can’t tell really, but somehow he doesn’t think Lydia would be eyeing up Ethan with the same contemplative look) and Danny in the distance. "Having fun?" he sneaks up on her, and she jumps, spinning around.

"Don't do that!" she complains.

"Scare ya?" he jokes. She glares at him, a patented Lydia Martin look.

"Why aren't you dancing?" he asks, "Why are you stalking out Isaac and Allison?" he follows her gaze, staring at the soppy pair flirting with each other.

She says something that Stiles doesn't hear over the loud music. "What's that?" he's almost shouting to be heard, ducking his head and looking at Lydia.

She startles.

"Lydia?" he asks.

"I-uh...sorry." She shakes her head, "I thought for a minute… I thought your eyes looked silver." she stares at him curiously.

"It must be the light." Stiles grins disarmingly at her.

She smiles weakly, "I need…" her gaze is drifting off, "I need to get some air…" she glances behind her, spooked by something.

"Okay," Stiles lets her slip away, frowning after her. Lydia knew something was off.

But maybe in this case it's not because of him.

He feels the chill crawl over his skin and shivers. There is a flicker in the shadows.

"Hey!" a girl pauses in front of him, "I kissed you earlier…" she looks plastered.

Stiles grins, "Yeah, yeah you did."

"I'm Caitlin," she introduces herself, perching on the stairs.

"Stiles." he says, and then the name hits him, "Wait… Caitlin? Your girlfriend… Emily?"

"She _died_." The girl is definitely plastered.

"Oh." Stiles doesn't know what to say. He has a violent memory of bodies, threefold death, finding them everywhere and so, so many of them.

And he wonders what the difference is?

That's when it really hits him.

He almost got Kira killed.

Almost. But not quite.

Nobody got hurt. It was all good - right?

Nobody got hurt this time. But there is a clawing in his gut that calls out for strife and chaos.

And he wants to satisfy it. He needs to, because he's starving and he'd do anything if it just made this hunger go away.

That realisation jolts him up, away from the drunk girl. "Drink this," he thrusts a water bottle at her, staggering away. He needs to get out, to try and work out…

He's different ~~wrong~~. He's been different ~~broken~~ since his mother died, and now again since the Nemeton.

And it's bad. He knows that. ~~(He doesn't care).~~

 

He tells Scott in the morning.

At least, he tries to. He takes Scott to the classroom, and is going to show him the blackboard, but freezes when he remembers he wiped it off.

(Leave no trace).

He tries to pull out the key to the chemistry closet, but he's gotten rid of that too. Which means he's going to have to come out and say it, he's going to have to tell Scott plain and simply 'I did it'. He chokes.

"Stiles?" Scott grabs his shoulders, "You okay? You look bad… maybe you should go home?"

The words are there, on the tip of his tongue, but Scott is looking at him with such concern that Stiles doesn't want to see that turn into hate.

He nods and slips away.

 

He doesn't go home. He goes to the hospital.

Maybe he's just ill, he's reasoning. Maybe there's some other reason for all this.

He speaks to Melissa, lists of symptoms. Adderall not working. (He's been so still lately it hasn't mattered). Inability to tell dream from reality. (He wakes up and wakes ~~up and wakes up~~ ). Time passing. (He knows what he does, but it doesn't really hit him until later, usually when Scott's talking about serial killers and that's the point Stiles wonders if what he just did was really sensible…).

She gives him a sedative. It's a welcome break that Stiles doesn't want, need, or deserve. He just needs to tell Scott, tell Scott the truth (maybe he should get Derek in to help him tell Scott) but just before he sinks under he sees his mom, leaning over him, and he remembers her death. (Painful, confused, disorientated, dying, painfully, don't tell ~~don't tell~~ or he'll die the same way and Stiles doesn't want to die).

He closes his eyes and sleeps.

 

He wakes to a quiet hospital.

Almost the whole day has passed. It's getting dark outside, sun setting when he climbs out of bed, looking to see where Melissa has gone. Is it okay if he just leaves?

He still needs to tell Scott, he thinks, looking around the hospital. He enters a room, the door swinging shut, and he sees something in the shadows.

It erupts like smoke and he freezes, ice clenching his heart at the masked figure.

 _~~They came out of the dark.~~ _ ~~~~

Stiles knows why it's here. He spins around but there are two more behind him.

He's trapped.

 

His mother told him about the Oni, about how some types of kitsune could summon them to pass judgement. They were used as weapons; manifestations of the kitsune's tails to kill those deemed a threat.

Stiles spins around to the first Oni as it reaches out one hand towards his head.

They're looking for him. They're looking to kill him.

His arm shoots out and he grabs onto the black garbed sleeve before it can reach him. He turns to stare at the firefly green eyes, considering how best to deal with it.

He yanks out the firefly from the demon's heart. Without its power the shape fades into shadows again and Stiles is left with a dying bug on the palm of his hands.

He'd been prepared to play nice. He'd been prepared to tell his friends, to admit what he was.

But this? This was a game changer. This was someone _else_ on _his_ chessboard, shoving around pieces that weren't welcome. And whoever it was, they were threatening him, his life, his friends, and his pack.

Stiles turns around and the other Oni look nervous, if that was even possible.

They had reason to be.

 

When Scott arrives minutes later the Oni are gone and Stiles has a game plan. He knows how he's going to work this, how he's going to win this.

So he smiles and follows behind as Scott begins talking (and if Stiles flinches at the words dark spirit Scott doesn't notice).

Behind them a firefly lies dying on the floor.

 

"They're looking for a dark spirit. A nogitsune."

And for the first time in a while, with the young thunder kitsune standing there and Japanese demons searching for another, Derek thinks about Stiles.

And he doesn't know if Scott knows or not, isn't sure if Stiles has told him. (He thinks not).

He doesn't want to tell Scott. He'll be breaking Stiles' trust, but at the same time Stiles hasn't exactly followed up on his promise to tell them.

He doesn't even know what kind Stiles is. He wonders if the Oni have checked him out yet.

Then Stiles goes missing. Derek is dragged out to look for him, but they find him, confused and shaking in the woods. The red thread on his walls has been tied to a pair of scissors and stabbed into his bed, and Lydia hears echoes in the strings.

Now Derek sits at the hospital as the doctors examine Stiles. The Sheriff is talking about an MRI because Stiles might be ill, and Derek knows Stiles hasn't told them.

So what's he playing at? Kitsune don't get ill.

He should have asked there and then. But instead Derek let it go, turned away to go and see Kira about foxfire.

It still led him right back to where he started. The hospital, but this time looking for Scott, a sense of urgency about him.

Because the whole thing with Barrow - it was just to get the foxfire to blow the power-station fuses, to send thousands of volts that would kill a normal human through a metal baseball bat. And that means only one person could have done it.

There's not dark spirit. None at least that wasn't already there before.

It makes no sense. Why is Stiles doing all this _now_?

Because if there is no dark spirit it means it is all Stiles. It is Stiles manipulating serial killers. It is Stiles playing ill. It is Stiles, trying to get people killed.

Derek never asked what kind of kitsune Stiles was.

He thinks now he should have.

But he thinks he knows the answer.

"Where is he?" Derek asks - well - demands of Scott.

Scott looks down, shoulders slumped. "Stiles?" he asks, "He… he just left. With his dad. He wouldn't…" he shakes his head, "He wouldn't listen to me… he…"

Derek frowns, "What? Stiles _what,_ Scott?"

"He's checking himself into this mental institution," Scott sighs, "Eichen House. The scans… they show he's got frontotemporal dementia. Like his mother. It's atrophy of the brain and it means that Stiles is finding it harder to tell reality from dream and he thinks it will be better if he's somewhere where they know how to…"

"I know what it is!" Derek shouts, "And he doesn't have it! It's a _trick_! It's _all_ a trick!" he feels like pulling his hair out in frustration. "There's no dark spirit, Scott." he blurts out, "Stiles. He's a kitsune. A born kitsune. He's always been a kitsune."

Scott frowns, "What?" he says, stupidly, "Stiles… no… he would have told me… why do you know and not me…?"

"He was scared. And a load of other excuses, but he was mostly scared. I found out accidentally. But… he's not ill. Kitsune don't get ill."

Scott pales suddenly, "So… does that mean there's no dark spirit? The Oni are looking for a dark spirit…" he pauses, "Have they marked Stiles? Maybe… maybe he's possessed..."

Derek look grim, "Stiles never told me what kind he was. I think now I know why."

"You're saying… it's _Stiles_ , that's been doing this? That there's no dark spirit because it's _Stiles_? How do you know he's not possessed?"

"I don't know. I don't know. But I know this much… Stiles is still scared. And if he's putting himself in Eichen House, then he's terrified. He wants to be away from us. But he's still Stiles, okay? Don't forget that."

“The question is though,” Scott whispers, “Is he putting himself in Eichen house because he’s protecting himself from us? Or is he there to protect us from him?”

Derek doesn’t know any more.

 

Eichen House was a mistake.

Stiles realises this as soon as he's checked in, and a convenient suicide means that nobody is getting in or out for three days afterwards.

He's got what he wanted. He's isolated. Alone. ~~He’s been alone for a long time now.~~

And everyone is safe from him. ~~He can’t hurt them.~~

He feels guilty about his dad. The tests were faked (it was almost too easy ~~too fun~~ ) but his dad won't know that for a while. Stiles just needed an excuse to check himself in here. He needed space and he needs everyone else safe.

From him.

 

He never expected to find Malia here.

He never expected her to punch him the face either. Nor to be showering in the boys showers.

She's unsure about everything. He can tell that, but she puts on a brave face, radiating confidence which is paper thin. She's wild and feral behind that mask, but the month she's spent back has allowed her to catch up slightly, to tame it down.

He doesn't want to see her tamed. He wants to see the coyote underneath.

The making out thing is a really bad idea, but by that point Stiles is so close to just breaking someone's arm for the pain. He can't feed of intimacy, but it distracts him successfully.

He tells Malia everything. She'd told him everything, and it was only fair he shared stuff too. He never realised how nice it was to have someone listen and understand.

She'd been out of control when she killed her mother and sister. Stiles argues that his attempted murder wasn't out of his control, but she argues that it is, because Stiles can't help the hunger (aching, gnawing, bone deep skin splitting ~~insatiable~~ hunger).

"I still don't see why we have to be down here," she curls into him, "This place is spooky."

"It feels different," Stiles tells her, "I mean… the whole place is one giant pain centre, and that helps but this… there's emotional pain here… a sort of residue that never really leaves…" he frowns, standing, and begins walking around.

They find it - the backward 5. "What is it?" Malia asks, crouched by it.

"I think it's a kanji. It means self," Stiles sinks down.

Malia taps at the wall, "It's hollow," she realises.

They break it down and find the body. It's old, decades, and wrapped in bandages.

"Who is that?" Malia asks, unperturbed by the dead body. She reaches in and grabs a picture, staring at it.

Stiles steals it from her, "That's…" he stares at the picture of someone who looks like Kira and a young man, "I think I know her…"

"There's a sword here too…" Malia pulls it out, "What the hell?"

And that's when Stiles knows. It's when he sees the sword and finally realises. He grabs the pieces of the wall they had broken, and they slot back together, forming the symbol.

“I’m not a kitsune.” He whispers, “And maybe… maybe I never was. And … after my mom died I ... I’m what they call a nogitsune. It’s a type of kitsune… and this…” he swallows, dropping the two pieces of the symbol. “This was another nogitsune. There was another one. Older. More powerful. It probably doesn’t have a body - it’s just mindless chaos needing a host.”

Malia nods slowly, but still looks confused, "You aren't that type," she points out.

"No," Stiles shakes his head, "But he was." he nods at the body, "It…" he reaches out but stops himself. He wipes at his nose, dust making him want to sneeze. "This was a host. The other fox’ host."

He grabs the sword from Malia, and tries to unsheathe the katana.

The shards inside are broken, "See?" Stiles shows her, "This guy got stabbed and it… it doesn't kill the nogitsune. It just exorcises them. They are nothing more than spirits again without a host." he shudders, "That's why… that's why if the Oni kill me, it doesn't _kill_ me. It just… I'll be a disembodied spirit. Eventually I'll go mad, until I'm nothing more than a monster."

"You're not a monster," Malia says immediately, then laughs, "If you're a monster then what does that make me?"

Stiles doesn't reply.

"Is there a way…?" she asks, "Can you get better?"

"You ask as if it's an illness," Stiles sighs, "I don't… the sacrifice took the darkness and just…" he closes his eyes, so, so tired. "I'm a nogitsune," he thinks this is the first time he's said it out loud. "I was always different…" he admits, "But then… my mom died. And then the Nemeton and now… The others will realise. All I've done is given myself extra time. But eventually the Oni will come and they'll… I'll…"

Malia curls close to him, and she's cold, a human girl with no coyote skin, tip-toeing her way through life. "Maybe there's another way."

"What?" Stiles laughs, bitterly, "If I can't get better, and the Oni won't kill me then what is there that's left besides death?"

"You said it was hard to kill a kitsune," Malia shrugs.

Stiles freezes, "It is." he whispers, "But… the bite of a werewolf is poisonous to us. But _Scott_ … Scott would _never_ …" he shakes his head, "Scott would never agree to it. Maybe if he thought it would cure the frontotemporal dementia, but he won't… he'll know. He'll know by now. I put myself in here to try and find another way but all I’ve done is wasted time." his hands curl into fists. "Tomorrow the doors open and he and dad and Derek will be here and I…" he shakes his head.

Malia doesn't know what to do. Stiles doesn't blame her. "The coyote and the fox," she says instead, "You said they're both trickster spirits."

"Hah," Stiles grins weakly, "My attempt to flirt with you."

"Yeah, well… its true isn't it?" she asks, "You're a trickster. So why don't you do what you do best?"

"And what's that?"

She grins weakly, "Trick people."

 

"Stiles is missing," Scott tells Derek and the beta's wolf heart sinks. "He wasn't there this morning. They don't know when he got out."

It's just the beginning of the bad news.

 

Noshiko tells them about the spirit. Derek still thinks the nogitsune is Stiles, no spirit, no nothing, just Stiles on some twisted crazy scheme. Noshiko is convinced it's her demon, come back to haunt her.

And Scott doesn't know what to think. He wants it to be Stiles, because then he's safe, he's not at risk, there's no spirit threatening his life…

But if it's Stiles then that means…

It's not worth thinking about.

 

"It's me!" Stiles stares at them, wide-eyes, heart thudding, in the boiler room days later, "I swear to god it's me."

Ethan and Aidan leap for his throat and Scott snarls at them until they drop him. "Stiles?" he asks, "Are you… are you okay?"

Stiles looks shaky, "I'm fine." he keeps running his hands over his hair, "I just… I think… I think I did something… something bad…"

Scott's gaze flickers to his alpha-vision but Stiles is Stiles. There is no aura, no fox shape around him.

He's just Stiles.

Derek must be wrong, Scott decides, Stiles isn't a kitsune.

It must be another trick.

 

He's wrong, Scott thinks, He was wrong and Derek was right (Derek is arrested ~~\- to keep him quiet?~~ ) and now Scott was looking at Stiles with a realisation that the madness behind his eyes was all too, too real. He's got a sword in his chest and Kira is knocked out and Stiles stalks over, smooth and fingers tap **-tap** tapping on the hilt of the Oni's blade.

"You've really gotta’ learn, Scott," Stiles grins, "Don't trust a fox." and that sounds like a warning, something Scott should pay more attention to later when he doesn't have a _sword sticking out of his chest._ "We're tricksters. We'll fool you. We'll fool everyone." his grin is condensing, and Scott wants to believe nothing more than anything that Stiles is possessed.

Because that's better than the alternative.

But it fits. Stiles' dad was nowhere near the station, too busy with the fake bomb. People are dead but they're all strangers. Scott had felt one slip away through the veil, drained their pain to make their passing peaceful.

Now Stiles drains that pain out of him. His eyes look almost silver in the darkness, his veins turning black as he leeches it from Scott, body slumping slightly in relief.

Derek and Chris have been arrested. Isaac got injured poking around Eichen House.

Stiles could be possessed. Scott clings to that possibility. He and Derek are the only ones who know that it might be nothing more than another trick.

"I thought it'd be harder," Stiles admits, clutching Scott's collar, "But you all…. You're all so _predictable_ …" he laughs at it, and it sounds wrong ~~broken~~.

"Not all of us," Deaton appears from nowhere, grabbing Stiles by his collar and yanking him backwards. Stiles flails slightly, and then Scott can't see, because Deaton has thrown something down on the floor and stepped backwards.

Stiles spins around, and then freezes, his face growing emotionless as he spins around.

Scott looks down, following the small circle of dark black powder that lies on the ground around Stiles' form.

 

"Mountain ash," Stiles drawls, " _Really_ , Deaton?" His gaze slides from Scott to the vet, frustration and annoyance in the side longed gaze.

Once the mountain ash would have done nothing to faze him. He could manipulate flames and he ash was nothing more than dead flames. But now he can’t even spark his own foxfire.

He still tries. He pressed out and meets a blue barrier. It shimmers and he presses harder. All he succeeds in doing is making a black ink seep into the clue blue. He drops his hand, swallowing a lump in his throat. This is meant to cage him. The ash is meant to keep him trapped and this…?

This he can’t break.

Damn Deaton. Stiles had been _so_ close.

He's cornered for now but you can't cage a fox. ~~You can't tame one.~~

This is still Stiles' game and he's going to win.

 

They leave him in the circle as Deaton removes the sword from Scott’s gut. They leave him there while they wake Kira, while Allison and Lydia arrive.

Stiles watches with narrow eyes, "What are you doing, Scott?" he calls, "You think this is going to help? You think this is going to _save_ me?"

"You're not Stiles." Allison chokes out. Lydia just stares.

"Aren't I?"

The way Scott is staring at him makes Stiles thinks he knows. But the rest of them are acting as if they don't.

"You won't be soon," Deaton pulls out a thick book, "We've got an exorcism."

Despite himself Stiles is curious. It's not like an exorcism is going to do anything, but he wonders where Deaton found it. " _Impressive_ ," he drawls, "Shame, really…" he steps forwards, "You know Stiles is going to die without me?" he asks.

Scott still isn't looking him in the eye.

"Come on, Scottie," Stiles glances at him, "Look at me, come on…"

"Why?" Scott asks, looking up.

Stiles flinches, "Why does anybody do _anything?_ ” he drawls, non-committal.

" _Why_ didn't you tell…?" Scott bites his lip when Deaton makes a humming noise, looking up.

"I've found the page." he says, "Stay away from the circle," he tells the four teenagers.

Stiles wonders what he could say to make them stop. What he could do to prevent them finding out like this, but it’s easier to just lock eyes with Scott and step backwards, bracing himself. There are no words for this.

Lydia frowns and she's looking at him sharply. He meets her gaze with raised eyebrows and a head tilt, and she's mouthing his name " _Stiles_ " when Deaton reads out the first few words.

It's like a punch to the gut. He gasps for breath, winded, but Deaton just keeps reading.

He tries to suck in air but there is nothing, and he doubles over, hands coming out to keep himself upright. The world spins and his vision blacks and maybe this is it. Maybe he's going to die now just like he wants.

But then it stops, snapping back into focus. Deaton's trying to expel the spirit, but this is Stiles' body, and he can't go anywhere.

So instead it tries to rip him apart.

Stiles barely manages to catch his breath than it tears into him.

And he can't help it, wasn't expecting it and can't hold it in.

He screams.

He curls up. His spine arches and he thrashes, trying to escape from the grips. It's like something has dug in claws and is raking them deeply through his stomach and gut and tearing out his heart. His hands curl into his fist, leaving bloody imprints as he clenches eyes closed and bites his tongue to stop the sounds escaping his throat.

There's a whimper that he holds back, arching down and pressing his face to the cold floor, promising himself that he won't scream.

"Stop it," Scott's voice is hoarse, "Stop it. It's killing him, stop it."

"But if it saves Stiles…"

"It won't. He's not possessed. He's not possessed, it's just him, it's just him, stop it dammit…"

And the pain stops so abruptly it feels like whatever chain someone was yanking was dropped. Stiles chokes on air, spitting out blood and sucking in lungful's of oxygen.

"Stiles? Hey, Stiles?"

Scott's there, inside the circle (it's broken now, he should move, get out) "Stiles… I'm sorry, but we can't have you running off on us." the shape of his friend zooms in and out and Stiles blinks, dazed and numb (he still feels the prick of the needle).

He flinches away, seeing the syringe, and he gasps out a weak, "No. Don't. _Please_ …"

"That will knock him out," Deaton says, "And this will paralyze him." and Stiles is choking on blood and kanima venom, his muscles seizing up and the poison burning his veins and he finally gives up and lets his eyes roll back in his head.

(All the lights in the animal clinic blow at that point, but Stiles isn't aware of anything anymore).

 

The fox lichen burns through his veins.

But this time Stiles can't scream, the kanima venom paralysing him so all he can do it sit there and take it.

He passes in and out of consciousness. You can't kill a kitsune easily, but Stiles thinks this comes pretty close.

It's not what he needs though.

So instead he lies there, vaguely aware of people around him, talking but the words are an incomprehensible murmur of echoes that he can't place.

When he finally wakes he doesn't know how long it's been. There is light streaming through the window, and judging by the walls he's at Derek's loft.

There's nobody around. They've either misjudged how long he'd be under or they're idiots (and he likes to think better of his friends ~~you know, when he’s not trying to get them to kill him~~ )

Well they're not complete idiots. He's cuffed down, but it's too easy to break the cuffs, metal snapping like a twig ~~like bones~~.

He tries to stand, and his limbs feel weak. He almost collapses right away. He grabs onto the bed to support.

He's starving. He could eat a whole roast right now, except he knows it's not food he's hungry for.

Stick the plan, he tell himself, stick to the plan. (Malia will explain afterwards to Scott, to make him feel better. She promised. It was his plan but she’ll go along with it, for him, for Scott…)

He sneaks out of the room, lurking in the doorway to the rest of the loft. There are voices drifting through and he pauses for a bit to listen.

"He should have woken up by now…"

"...but what about Noshiko's nogitsune…? Are you saying they're _different_ …?"

"I'll go check on him…" that's definitely Kira, and Stiles begins moving, "What if he wakes up…?"

"I think it's a bit late for that," Stiles says, stepping forwards. ~~(far too late)~~

Kira whirls around and Stiles flashes her a grin before lashing out, arm across her head and she drops to the ground, stunned. He takes in the scene quickly: Derek standing by his table with Argent and his dad - Stiles winces - while Allison and Scott are pacing by the stairs. Lydia stands behind them. They all turn to him as he steps forwards into the light.

"Stiles," Scott looks like he's about to say something meaningful.

Stiles can't let him say that. If he hears whatever Scott has to say he doesn't think he'll be able to continue this. " _That_ was your plan?" he starts, voice angry, " _This_ is what you've resorted to, huh, Scott? Poison and _torture_?"

"What-- no…"

"The fox lichen." Stiles steps forwards, "That's what it was, wasn't it?"

"Yes…"

"You know that's what Gerard used, right?"

Scott blanches, "No… it knocked you out… Deaton said…"

" _Deaton_? Deaton knows no more than you do!" Stiles spits, "You _poisoned_ me! It's like fire, running through my veins, and I couldn't move. I couldn't even _scream_."

"I thought you fed off pain," Chris steps forwards, and Stiles gaze swivels to observe the hunter.

"Not my own."

There is movement out of the corner of his eye and Stiles glances aside to see Allison creeping up. She raises the taser even though he's seen, and Stiles steps back, catching the sharp metal.

Her face is one of shock as the static flickers harmlessly over his body. He uses the energy boost, draining it, stretching out the wires before yanking it out of her hand and tossing it away.

There is the click of a gun.

"Argent, put it down." his dad steps forwards. Stiles swallows, wondering if a bullet would work. It might, or maybe Scott might get desperate and bite him anyway. "Argent, put the gun down."

"Shoot me," Stiles challenges. "Pull the trigger."

"Argent, you put the gun down."

"Don't, this is what he wants, don't do it!" Scott moves from where he had been checking on Kira to stand besides Lydia. " _Don't_ _do it."_

Stiles doesn't know what they do or don't know anymore. But he knows this is still _his_ game. "Shoot me." he meets Argent's gaze, "SHOOT ME!"

"Stop it!" Allison shouts, "Stop it, this is exactly what he wants!"

"Is it?" Stiles asks her, head tilted on one side, "Since it's appeared recently that none of you actually know anything about me."

His dad flinches. Stiles forces himself to ignore that.

"I know one thing." Derek steps forwards, "You're still Stiles." He lunges and Stiles grabs the arm, twisting it around to Derek's body and using the momentum to throw him aside. Derek slides to the floor and Allison ducks down to help him up, Stiles staggering backwards and glancing around.

"It's good that you all have your guns out," he says, with a lopsided grin, "Because if nobody is going to shoot me, then the least you can do is shoot _them_."

And the last rays of the setting sun catch the horizon and then vanish, and they're all plunged into shadows, just as smoke creeps up from the floor. Stiles spins around, facing the Oni that have just appeared from the shadows and stepping back, just as Allison and Derek slip in between them. It's perfect, well played, and he can get out of here while they distract the Oni.

Except for one thing.

Stiles had forgotten about Scott and Lydia.

He steps back, and Scott moves forwards, claws out and snagging into Stiles' wrist. He startles, and he'd pull away except it would rip his wrist right open. "What are you…?" he begins to ask, but Scott's eyes flash red and the claws curl in such a way that makes Stiles' head spin.

It's not the brain stem at the top of the spine, but Scott's a true alpha. Stiles should have realised something like this could happen.

The world shakes and his eyes widen, and Scott stares at him. His one hand is wrapped around Stiles' wrist, claws sinking in and his other is still resting lightly on, where in his haste to move forwards, his claws have snagged on Lydia's hand.

That's how Stiles' world collapses. _~~(not with a bang but with a whimper and the pinprick of claws in his wrist)~~_

 

Scott wakes with a gasp, Lydia besides him. They're lying on a grassy hill somewhere, daisies growing in the green, green grass.

The colours are too bright, like some fake painting. "Where are we?" Lydia asks.

"I think…" Scott stops when a kid runs past, in that slow moving run that makes it all feel like a dream. Laughter echoes in the air as the small boy runs to a woman, arms out as she scoops him up, spinning him around. There is a lump in Scott's throat as he watches, the mother cooing at the child.

_"You shouldn't run so fast, little kit. Humans can't run that fast."_

_"But I can,"_ the boy giggles.

 _"Don't stand out,"_ she scolds him, tapping his nose scolding him.

Lydia's breath hitches next to him, "Is that…?"

Scott nods, "That's Stiles. And his mom."

Lydia swallows, staring at the scene, the little boy so full of joy. "Are we in his head?"

"I think… I think so." Scott breathes.

"Then where is Stiles?"

 

The image fades around them, folding up and unfolding like an origami flower into a new elaborate scene, colour bleeding into the picture. _"Why can't I tell Scott?"_ a young Stiles is petulantly asking his mother.

 _"Because it's dangerous,"_ she is telling him, _"If you tell Scott, you'll be putting him in danger. You can't tell anyone. Understand?"_

The boy sighs.

_"Nobody. Tell me you understand."_

_"I understand."_

 

Scenes flash past like a film reel. There's no chronology to them, one minute they're watching a young Stiles playing with his mother, the next they're seeing their Stiles curled up on a couch with - "Is that _Malia_?" Lydia frowns, as Stiles whispers something to the coyote that they can't hear and Malia leans over and presses her lips to his…

The scene dissolves and another one takes its place. Stiles with a buzzcut stumbles after Scott, _"It's called lycanthropy."_

 _"Is that bad?"_ a younger Scott asks, and Lydia snorts slightly.

 _"Only once a month…"_ younger Stiles jokes, but then he pauses, and actually appears to be considering it. For a moment he tilts his head at Scott’s back, and the pupils of his eyes are ringed with silver but then it’s gone and the memory begins to fade…

"Where is Stiles?" Lydia asks as the scene dissolves, "Where is he? If this is his head… he did come in with us, right?" She watches as Stiles stabs scissors into his bed, tied to red thread, and nodding at it triumphantly, stands back with a grin.

Scott grabs her wrist and tugs her along as the scene dissolves again.

It's Stiles pacing in his bedroom. _"Just tell Scott,"_ he mumbles to himself, " _Scott, I'm a kitsune. Scott, I've always been a kitsune. And nothing's different except that electricity and fire don't hurt me, and I swear I meant to tell you but…"_ Stiles makes a sound of frustration _, "No no **no** ,"_ he shakes his head, _"That's not going to… he's going to…"_ he chews on his lip and spins around, _"Come on, Stiles. It's not like Scott's going to hand you over to hunters… he's your friend… he's not going to… he won't…"_ he shakes his head and begins all over, starting again and the image blurs out into another one.

Scott pauses, startled, "This is the Argent basement," he recognises the building.

"Oh god," Lydia's hands cover her mouth as she sees the forms of Erica and Boyd, electricity crackling over their bodies.

 _"I'm going to get you down,"_ Stiles stands there, tugging at the wires that don't hurt him at all.

 _"I know what you are."_ Gerard stalks down the stairs, confident and relaxed. Stiles turns, and begins to blunder his way through when Gerard gets tired of conversation.

He shoots Stiles with a small tranquiliser dart. Except judging by the way Stiles' eyes widen and his limbs begin trembling it's not tranquiliser.

"Make it stop," she whispers to Scott as the cries of pain start. "Can't we… Scott?"

Scott grabs her and pulls her towards the stairs. They climb up there, and a part of Scott feels like he's leaving his friend, being tortured in that basement. "He's been keeping us distracted," he realises, pushing Lydia towards the door, "Go through. Let's get out of this…" she shoves through and they stumble out, into a brightly lit hospital room.

A young Stiles is curled up next to a pale and sickly woman. It takes Scott a while to recognise Claudia Stilinski. Young Stiles is cradling her hands as she whispers to him.

_"You have to promise me that you will tell nobody."_

_"I promise. I promise."_

"What are you doing here?" Scott turns as Stiles - their Stiles - steps forwards from where he had been leaning on one wall watching the scene, "Scott? Get out! You _can't_ … I _don't_ … _GET OUT_!"

"Stiles?" Lydia looks at him, "What is this?"

"You can't see this," Stiles shakes his head, face pale and panicked, "What are you _doing_ here?!"

The younger Stiles is panicking as the heart monitor begins its long, endless, finally beep and doctors begin to rush in.

"What happened?" Scott asks his friend, because there is something broken about the way the doctor drags out the younger Stiles. Like there's a light in his eyes that died. He remembers a memory of the younger Stiles making a small fire with just his hands.  “You weren’t always void, were you?” he realises.

"No," Stiles shakes his head, "Get _out_. You have _no_ _right_ …"

"We're your _friends_!" Lydia snaps, "We have _every_ right. You should have _told_ us."

Stiles' expression closes off with every word they say, "No. You don't know _anything_. You know _nothing_ , and you don't know me!"

"Then tell us…"

"Get out." he snaps. "Get out. Get out. GET _OUT_!" and the world around them shakes like an earthquake and the scene cracks and breaks.

Like a mirror, Lydia thinks, before she wakes with a gasp.

 

"You want to know me so well," Lydia is yanked away from Scott by a cold hand, "Then why don't you come and keep me company, huh? Because I'm setting a trap. And you? You're _bait_."

She stumbles after him, Stiles dragging her along. "Scott," she tries to say something, tries to scream, but all her energy is seeping out of her, being drained by Stiles' touch. "Scott…" she hears the sounds of the battle, Oni against guns and fangs and ring daggers, and sees Scott sprawled in the middle of it, blinking awake.

He's too late.

He's far too late.

Stiles and Lydia are already gone.

 

It's cold in the tunnels beneath Eichen House and the Internment Camp. The walls are damp and the floor like ice.

Lydia stumbles along, Stiles pacing behind her, unhurried. She stops, takes a breath and turns around to face him.

His face is cold, dark. She barely recognises the person she sees there. "What do you want?" she whispers, because Stiles wouldn't do this just because he found it fun. Stiles might be a nogitsune, but even he wouldn't start playing with them like this. Not now. What was so different about _now_?

The only thing that had changed was…

No, that wouldn't work. Kira had been at school since August, they just hadn't noticed her yet. Stiles had been fine, normal during the alpha pack and Daruch incident, right up until…

Right up until the sacrifice.

"It was the Nemeton, wasn't it?"

"Very clever," Stiles says, "But then I've come to expect that of you, Lydia. You're a clever little banshee, aren't you?" the words are scathing, and not-Stiles. She turns around and stumbles down to the stairs, the cold iron bars. He pauses at the top of them, looking about. He's distracted, and Lydia uses that opportunity to close her eyes and whisper to the shadows, to the voices.

Come find me ~~Don't find me~~ She's not quite sure what to say.

"You can hear them, can't you?" Stiles asks her, "The voices… they're louder than usual. Bad stuff happened here…" he says, trailing one hand through the air, "I don't know what, exactly, but it still lingers in the air, after all this time," and as his hand catches the light the veins run black for a moment and Stiles shivers.

Lydia uses the bars to turn to face him. He sits at the top of the stairs, arms on his knees. "Your mother was a kitsune too, right?"

Stiles doesn't answer, and so she pushes the question.

"I don't understand," she whispers, "I don't understand. If it's been this way since your mother's death, then why are you playing this game now?"

"After the Nemeton," Stiles begins, "Deaton said it would change us. It would be this… _darkness_ … around our hearts. I could feel it almost as soon as we woke up. It was like this ache in my bones. I thought it would go away, or that I would learn to live with it, but it… it just got worse. It's like this constant, aching, _devouring_ hunger, clawing at my guts, gnawing at my spine… and the only thing that makes it go away is pain…"

He's suddenly right behind her, pressing his face against her neck and inhaling, "Your pain. What you feel. But it's not _enough_ , _Lydia_ …" his voice breaks slightly, "It's not _enough_. The hunger isn't going away. It just keeps getting worse." He laughs, brokenly. "I'm insatiable," he whispers, "And do you want to know the worst thing, Lydia?"

She doesn't answer, but she knows he's going to tell her.

"I hurt Scott. I hurt Isaac and that deputy and people are dead but I? _I don't care_. I'm not guilty or sad or worried. I couldn't care less about them. I should… but I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

He grabs her shoulder, and she turns with it until he's facing her, eyes dark and earnest.

"I'd do it again, Lydia, and that's why you have to stop me. Because I'm a monster… look at _you_ , you're terrified just by my being here…" he's letting go of her suddenly, stepping backwards. "You have to stop me, because if you don't then it will just continue. The strife and chaos… _this_? This is _nothing_ compared to what I can do."

She swallows down her fear and steps after Stiles. He stiffens, and she knows he can taste her emotions on his tongue, "I'm not afraid of you," she whispers, "I'm afraid _for_ you. Why…? _Why_ didn't you tell us? We could have _helped_ you."

"You _are_ helping," Stiles whispers, "Scott's going to come soon, and then it's going end. But Scott's good, the only good, and he wouldn't just do it if I asked him to. He needs a reason, and so I gave him that."

"You want him to _kill_ you," Lydia whispers, "I don't understand…"

"Stop trying to understand," he hisses, shoving her away, one hand at her neck as she stumbles backwards. He moves forwards, pressing her to the cold dank wall of the tunnel, "You can't even begin to imagine what it is like." he looks pained, drained just standing there.

"I'm a _banshee_ ," she whispers, with some unbelievable certainty about her words, "I'm your _tether_. Of course I can…" and she reaches for his head, pulling him close and kisses him.

His body stiffens, and she breaks the kiss after only a second, but it's enough to drop his defences as she pulls him down, until their foreheads touch together and she closes her eyes.

It hits her straight away, the pit inside of her. It's like someone has clawed her stomach out, like she's been sick and lost her dinner. But it's worse than that, because it makes every bone and vein throb with the deep, raw hunger. She gasps at the feeling, at the ache that gnaws at her spine, splits her head open in a migraine so that she can barely think of anything but the need to feed. She's barely aware of Stiles running fingers through her hair, brow furrowing before he pulls away.

"What _was_ that?" he hisses, glaring at her.

The feelings leave her, and her knees tremble. She wants to collapse, but she's just so relieved it's over. She breathes heavily, and stares at Stiles, seeing that hunger, that shadow behind his eyes.

It's what he's feeling all the time. She doesn't know how he's functioning, how he's even sane still. Something crept in when they weren't looking and scooped out a chunk of her Stiles, leaving a giant gaping empty hole that she knows they can't hope to fill.

He's nogitsune now. He's _void_. ~~Stiles is gone.~~

There's nothing left but a shadow where Stiles used to be.

 

"They'll kill you." she whispers, some indeterminable amount of time later, "Someone is going to die. I can _feel_ it. Stiles, if you do this, someone will _die_!"

"I know," Stiles shrugs, unbothered. "Scott will have no choice then."

Lydia stares at him, "You want them to kill you," she whispers, "But that’s not the twist. The twist, the whole point to this… You want to _die_.”

And for a moment he looks at her, pure, complete Stiles, startled because she's worked it all out, seen through the plan. But it doesn't matter, because it's far too late.

(Into the darkness, Lydia whispers what she's been saying for the past few hours, repeating the words and hoping that someone hears and tells Scott and that he understands…)

_(“Do you know the ritual of seppuku, Scott? When a samurai disembowels himself with his own sword to maintain his honor, but that’s not the cut that kills him. The killing stroke is made by his kaishakunin, who beheads the samurai with his own katana. That’s you, Scott. You’re his kaishakunin. And Stiles? Stiles is currently mid-way through stabbing himself with his own sword.”)_

“This is all just a trick, isn’t it?” she says quietly.

"Yes," he admits, being honest for the first time in ages, "Yes, this is a trick. And everyone is doing exactly what I need them to."

"I _won't_." Lydia says, "I'm not doing anything you say."

Stiles grins, leaning forwards, "You already are. So why don't you _scream_ and finish off that deal, okay?"

"I _won't_."

"You _will_. You are going to scream," Stiles threatens her, "You're going to scream and lead them right here to where we are."

She shakes her head, "You'll die," she whispers.

"Good."

"I won't…"

"You will.… he promises darkly, and reaches for her, dragging her wrist to his chest and repeats her action earlier, bruising her lips in a searing kiss before pressing his forehead to hers.

And the hunger is back, like grit in her throat, her bones grinding over each other, and she flinches away, eyes flying open and she screams.

~~She screams, but for whose death she’s not quite sure of yet.~~

 

She feels it when the Oni approach, and that's when Stiles drags her up and out into the cold night air. "Stiles, _don't_ …" she begs, "There must be another way…"

"If the Oni kill me…" Stiles says, "Then what happens to me will be worse than death."

He doesn’t let go off her arm but stops moving, standing still as Noshiko steps out from the shadows. Lydia doesn’t try to run, even when she sees the Oni materialising besides the older kitsune. Two frame her, swords out and spinning around.

"Don't." Kira steps forwards, confronting her mother. The sword in her hand elicits a gasp from Stiles as he stares at it, and Lydia wonders where Kira got that from. "Mom, don't.” Kira says again, “It's not the same nogitsune as the one you summoned."

"He is still void," Noshiko looks towards her daughter sadly as Scott, Isaac and Allison slip between Stiles and the Oni. Stiles raises his eyebrows, almost as if he's surprised. He holds Lydia tighter.

"He's still our friend." Scott argues. “He’s pack.”

Stiles steps backwards, and Lydia knows he’s frustrated. This isn’t what he planned; he didn’t need this confrontation here and now.

She knows what he needs and he’s not going to get it.

"He will still die," Noshiko says, and the Oni move forwards. There are five Oni. Two stand besides Noshiko and the other three materialise behind Lydia and Stiles, forms twisting as they fix their gazes on the pair. Stiles turns his head, glancing with wide-eyed panic and fear at them, his grip on Lydia’s weakening slightly.

“He will,” Lydia can feel it in her bones. Someone is going to die. Soon.

There is some silent signal and the Oni move forwards. A blade flashes towards Lydia and she’s more surprised than anyone when Stiles moves forwards, knocking the sword away. It still cuts the arm he uses to knock it aside, but it doesn’t really matter because the next second he’s plunging his fist into the darkness and tugging out a firefly.

The Oni dissipates and Stiles turns grimly to her as he crushes the firefly in his hand. “I guess you’ll get what you want then,” he whispers to Lydia. “One way or another.”

“Look out!” Someone - Isaac shouts and the pair look up to another Oni, sword raised. Something whistles through the air, and the Oni staggers, hand going to the arrow that has sunk into its dark form.

It explodes. Green firefly light shatters and Stiles steps backwards, glancing between where Allison stands triumphantly and the remains of the Oni are fading into black. “Oh my god,” Lydia breathes, because Allison just killed it. In the span of seconds two Oni were dead.

There is a snarl as one slashes out at Isaac, and the clang of blades as Kira duels another. The third slides towards where Allison is drawing her bow again, blade out, but then Lydia is yanked away. Stiles is stony faced, dragging her with him. “This isn’t how it’s meant to go,” he snaps at her, voice low, “You’re going to ruin everything!”

“No,” Lydia stops, tugging her hand free, “No, I’m not.” And her gaze drifts past Stiles, and his brows furrow, head turning just in time to see the flash of red eyes as Scott steps towards him.

Scott lunges, and his claws flash out. Stiles lets out a choking gasp as his best friend's hand sinks into his stomach, claws tearing into the flesh.

For a moment Stiles looks startled, surprised even, staring down at the claws buried into his gut. Scott lets out a sob, and Stiles glances up, gaze heavy.

If Scott learnt one thing from his accidentally memory trip, it's that a werewolf's claws are just as effective in hurting a kitsune as their teeth are.

The Oni vanish in a cloud of black. Allison staggers back, seconds away from a blade going through her chest.

The light footsteps are the only thing to signify Kira, moving behind Stiles, and Lydia only realises she is there when a sword materialises through Stiles' chest.

He chokes, claws in his gut and a sword through his back, impaling him. Scott's jaw drops open as he tugs his hand back and Stiles' body drops to his knees like a rag doll. There is blood on his lips and Scott’s hand as Kira pulls her sword free, tears clinging to her eyes.

"No," Scott whispers, "No…" he drops to the ground, cradling Stiles to him, " _No_ …"

Stiles' eyes flutter once, and a word rests on his lips that Lydia knows even though she can't hear it.

A thank you is audible to only Scott before his eyes slip closed.

"NO!" Scott cries out, clenching his eyes closed to stop the flow of tears. Lydia finds herself stumbling forwards, dropping down, ignoring the dirt to reach out and press her fingers to Stiles' neck. She closes her eyes.

"It's gone," she whispers, "The hunger… it's gone."

Black smoke swirls up into the shape of an Oni and Noshiko steps forwards. Scott looks up and nods, too choked up to say anything.

Lydia refuses to move as the Oni bends over, firefly gaze staring at the pale face of her friend. Cold fingers press behind his ear and lets go, before dissolving back into the darkness it had come from.

"He's clean," Noshiko says wrapping an arm around a shell shocked Kira. "There is no nogitsune in him now."

"There never was," Scott glares at her, "That wasn’t already…” he draws a shuddering breath, “None of it was anything that wasn’t always there - _god_ \- if only he’d told us…" he breaks off, sucking in air like a drowning man. He cradles Stiles body, pressing his fingers to the self-kanji behind Stiles' ear. Lydia watches dispassionately as black veins trail up Scott's skin.

She blinks, and realises that she's holding Stiles' hand. "Scott," she whispers, "What are you doing?"

Scott looks up and then down at his hand where the black veins take away pain. He gapes wordlessly.

"You can't take pain from dead bodies," Lydia whispers, "You can't…"

"Then he's not dead…" Scott whispers, "He's not… _Stiles_!" he shouts, and Lydia moves her fingers half an inch to the left on the frail wrist, and for the first time feels a thrumming pulse.

"He's not dead." she whispers, "I never screamed." the sorrow in her gut evaporates, and she reaches forwards, pressing one hand over Stiles' heart, "Come on, Stilinski," she breathes, "Wake up now. _Wake_ _up_." She stares at the still form, who still looks dead. "Wake up. One last time." And acting on impulse she leans forwards over his body, shouldering Scott away and presses her mouth down over Stiles.

It's like an electric shock as his body startles into life. She breaks away; leaning back as Stiles shoves himself upwards, rolling over and coughing violently. Scott leans backwards, and Lydia holds up her hands, unsure of what to do as Stiles begins choking.

Allison and Isaac are standing staring with wide eyes as Stiles vomits, and he reaches into his mouth, tugging out a trail of bandages that falls to the ground. Black smoke clings to them and the trail keeps coming as he spits them out onto the mud and gravel.

With a violent heave and a tug he pulls out the last of them, frame shaking as he stares at the pile of slightly puke covered bandages.

He looks cold, shivering like that, Lydia thinks, but then she can't tell because his eyes are glowing, a deep silver rimming the pupil and with a spark, the pile of bandages catch fire, burning.

~~(And for a moment Lydia thinks she sees a dark grey and red fox, crouched there, feet spread, ears back, jaws parted in a slight snarl as amber eyes stare at the bandages, but then there is nothing but Stiles leaning there, breathing heavily, and Lydia may have been wrong for the first time in her life.)~~

Stiles shoves himself back, eyes closing. "Let's not do that again," he mumbles, before keeling over in a dead faint.

Scott and Lydia lunge for him, but he's still breathing, still alive.

He's still human, or at least as human as he was before the whole mess with the Nemeton started.

And whatever darkness was in him was just burnt away, the shadow and hunger burnt away. “He’s… if this normal?” Kira whispers, showing Lydia her phone. The picture was taken seconds ago and Lydia takes the phone gingerly.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, “But I know someone who will.”

 

Derek stares at the picture on his phone. It’s of Stiles and Scott, and he’s going to have to delete the photo because neither of them look even vaguely human. Ethan and Aiden peer over his shoulder, and he holds the phone out for them to see.

“Is he dead?” Aiden asks,” Is Lydia safe?”

“He’s alive,” Derek replies, glaring at the wounded beta. He wishes the other wolf had a few more injuries from wolfsbane bullets, if only so Derek could burn out the poison for a little bit longer.

He wonders if those kinds of thoughts make him worse than Stiles.

“Is he still on a killing spree?” Aiden narrows his eyes.

Derek turns his phone around to look at the image. He remembers how he last saw Stiles, pale skinned and dark shadows beneath his eyes, and how when his vision had slipped into blues and reds of his wolf, he saw nothing but a deep black shadow strewn around Stiles like a hungry, hollow, pit.

He’s not sure quite what happened. But Stiles is alive and he’s better. He’s back to whatever constitutes normal for the fox masquerading as a human for so, so long.

Looking back at the picture one last time he texts a reply in the affirmative, not even trying to fight the smiles that creeps its way onto his lips from seeing an unconscious Stiles slouched over the true alpha’s shoulder. Scott’s eyes are flaring in the flash and Stiles’ whole form is blurred and misty, strewn with a fiery grey fox aura which wraps around him like a blanket.

Derek can never quite bring himself to delete the picture from his phone.

 

"You said yourself, Deaton doesn't know anything about kitsunes."

"He knows more than Noshiko, no offense Kira…"

"I just found out she's 900 years old. None taken."

Stiles sits hunched in on himself: nervous and unsure how to act. The hunger is gone, and Lydia knows because she checked, pressing her lips to his and her hand to his heart. He's still hollow, but there's no clawing pain, no need to cause strife.

He can manipulate fire again, and she keeps watching with wonder as small flames dance along the back of his hands. "I haven't been able to do that since the Nemeton," he tells them, "I mean… ever since my mother died things were different, but after the sacrifice it all got a whole lot worse… and I’m sorry I never told you, I’m sorry…"

"Don't," Scott shakes his head.

Stiles falls silent immediately, head bowing.

"You don't need to apologise," Scott says, clearly, "So don't. I'm sad, that you didn’t trust us, but I understand. And it's over now. It's over."

Stiles doesn't say 'but people are dead ~~and I killed them~~ ', he doesn't need to. He just keeps quiet and lets Scott drive them to the animal clinic.

"I don't know what I'm meant to be testing," Deaton admits, "I've never heard of kitsune evolving between types. But I think I have something…" and he drops a mountain ash circle around Stiles.

Scott flinches away and Stiles just drops to the ground in a crouch, kneeling on the cold floor. He reaches out one hand, and the air shimmers blue.

Lydia's heart falls for just a second, but then his fingers twitch and the ash line breaks.

A grin appears on Stiles' face, "I can manipulate it," he breathes, "It _worked_. It… it hasn't since the Nemeton…"

"Then…" Deaton nods his head, "It appears that the darkness from the Nemeton's sacrifice allowed your… more void-like qualities to manifest themselves. And whatever Scott and Kira did fixed it."

Stiles shrugs, "I just wanted to die," he admits, and Scott sucks in a gasp of air. "The Oni… that wouldn't have killed me. I needed Scott, but I knew you'd never do it… if I just asked. So I had to trick you."

"It was a good trick."

Stiles stiffens, but doesn't turn around to look at Noshiko where she stands in the doorway.

"I'm sorry." she apologises, "For your mother."

“No you’re not.”

“No,” the older kitsune stares at Stiles, “I’m not. You’re an abomination.”

Lydia stands defensively but Stiles just lays one hand on her arm reassuringly. “It’s okay,” he tells her, then looks towards Noshiko. “You can’t say that you’re much a kitsune anymore. Not now Kira’s coming into her power. Does that make her an abomination?”

“Kira is a thunder kitsune,” Noshiko says, “I wasn’t. I am old and my tails broken. But you… something went wrong. Why your _type_ …” her face twists.

“I wasn’t always…” Stiles pauses, “I wasn’t always like this.” He gestures at mid-air, “My eyes were amber when I was a kit.” He argues, as if that makes a difference.

Noshiko blinks at him, “You _were_ always like this. You were just young enough that you couldn’t tell until the sacrifice changed you.”

“The sacrifice?” Stiles mocks, “Oh, this was further back than that. This was from when I sat next to a hospital and watched my mother die right in front of me. Isn’t that the lore? A nogitsune is born when a kitsune dies. I guess you’re not meant to take it so literally but I don’t like to play by the book. I’m the reason she died, after all. I didn’t even… it _was_ me, wasn’t it? I killed her. Because I’m void. Always was.” He shrugs, and it seems like he doesn’t care, but Lydia knows there is something broken inside.

“You were a child,” Deaton says carefully from the side, “You couldn’t control your power. And it’s quite possible Claudia let it happen. That she let her powers go to let you live.”

Stiles flinches, “She used to say she couldn’t remember what her tails felt like,” he whispers, “But she could remember what it felt like to hold me in her arms and that was worth the loss.”

Noshiko is still glaring at Stiles as if he’s an enigma she doesn’t like. “There was something else within you,” she frowns, “Something that you expelled in a pile of bandages.”

“You mean, you think Stiles was infected with _your_ nogitsune?” Scott frowns, “The one you trapped beneath the Nemeton?” That might be true, Lydia thinks, but it doesn’t matter.

“Who cares?” she shrugs, “Stiles is back to being a kitsune. Nogitsune if you want to be technical. Void. Fine. He’s no longer got an urge to kill others or himself. I’m counting that as a win. So are you finished?” Lydia glares at Noshiko, “Because if you are I’d like you to leave.”

“Don’t worry,” Stiles still has a hand resting on her arm, “I should head back… see my dad…”

“I’ll come with you,” Scott says, and Lydia tugs her arm out of Stiles’ grip. He looks sad at that, right up until she snags his hand instead and tugs his forwards, past Noshiko and leaving Deaton looking cryptic and puzzling. Scott follows.

“Take me home?” Lydia asks Stiles as they head out towards his jeep.

He grins weakly at her, "Still trust me? After all that?"

“Of course!” Scott almost bounces past, far too happy for someone who was forced to stab their best friend only an hour ago, “You’re pack.”

“I’m a fox,” Stiles frowns, “Not a wolf.”

“And?” Lydia shrugs, “I hear we have a coyote joining the pack.”

“Uh… yeah… about that…”

“I’m a banshee.” Lydia shrugs, smiling at him, “It’s your choice,” she tells him, arching her neck, “You want to go with a death omen or fellow trickster? No worries. I’ll understand.” She tugs open the passenger door of Stiles’ jeep, climbing in and slipping to the back.

Scott gapes at Stiles. “Dude.”

Stiles frowns. “Stop it.” He says, “Scott, no. Bad puppy. Mind out of gutter.”

Scott laughs and clambers after Lydia as Stiles opens the driver’s door. The mirror catches his eye, and he glances in it, seeing the moon reflected above him. His eyes flash, sparking silver and Stiles turns away.

He knows what he is now.

He doesn’t need anymore reminders.


End file.
